“And, and hear me. You either have a good voice, or you can learn languages easily.” I stared in wonder.
“Why can’t I have both?” I asked him, stuffing yet another skewer of sate into my mouth, just to water down the weight of words I just uttered. It was out of disappointment, or perhaps out of an angst emancipated from the failure to fulfil the destiny despite the assurance he provided me. “Why can’t I have both – or at least a decent voice?” I asked myself in full inferiority complex.
“This is not what I thought of you. This is what the numbers tell. It’s either; or or.” He told me, still his eyes trying to search mine, imploring for my confidence. I was not in comfort.
“Well, I don’t believe you. I’m sorry I’m a sceptic though.”
“I just lay it all on the table. This is what the numbers tell. And this numbers rarely make mistakes.” He stood his ground and the conviction he tried to pass as the naked truth.
Ancient fortune-tellingThis whole point of simplifying me down into a set of numbers, and deciphering the numbers as my personality is a notion that I am not comfortable with. Worse yet, it did make me nervous. I’m afraid that somehow, all my secrets are actually within those numbers and he can really tell, or worse yet, I was predestined to have a certain personality, and this personality is actually signified, and can be understood physically from these outward traits – between the numbers, on the numbers and locations of my moles, the lines on my face and palms.
“You know what, if this is just another type of reading somebody’s fortune like the zodiacs, I’m totally not buying. I don’t believe in zodiacs.”
“This is different than the zodiacs. This is actually an ancient fortune-telling technique by the Egyptians. In fact, the zodiacs were based on this knowledge.”
“How would you know if it’s the truth?”
“I don’t know. Nobody knows for sure. But if you think this exactly is your personality, you would have the chance to rectify yourself.” I know that he was lying. He knows that this is the truth, that he was 100% confident in this method of fortune-telling, no doubts on his part.
“Epy, you are eccentric.”
He smirked playfully, as if he had me in his hands. As if I’m completely his subject. That, now, seemed like his initial intention, now culminating into this moment. He’s the magician, and I’m the mesmerized audience. He captured me in his moment of wonder; his act of magic. He wants to capsize me with his little parlour trick.
The Truth“And do you think I have a good voice?” I asked, quite taken aback by my own words.
“It’s not like that. It means you have a voice for story telling; a voice that people would want to listen to. A voice that is so powerful it can change people’s heart. And, either that, or you are a good language learner. It’s either one.”
“I don’t think I have that voice. Maybe I am a fast language learner; but not the one with the good voice.”
“Well, I don’t know, I cannot tell.” Says Epy. “But now, you listen to me. You have to break through your bubble. Your primary numbers show that you are a leader; your leadership is so strong the numbers are repeating themselves. But unluckily, your secondary personality is what dragging your leadership. You are not confident.”
Those words weaken me. I could literally feel my heart sank. Confidence – always a personal issue for me.
“What you can do now – number 1: mingle around with people. Don’t be judgmental, be friends with everybody. This will help boost your confidence by time.”
Epy’s words made me think, always. There’s always some peculiarity in his words, so earnest and simple, yet was unspoken by other people. He was the only one who dared to tell me this.
3 years of our age gap proves that there are indeed, lots of incomputable differences.
I am now trying as much as I could to be a sponge, absorbing people’s wits and wisdom. These people will help guide me towards my destiny, albeit indirectly.
Good Bye“People like you need people like me. You have leadership, while I have the social skills. I could help polish your leadership skills.” Epy exclaimed.
That sounded like a good plan, 2 months before, until he decided to leave too – just like Fahim.
Epy got so much going in his head that he worried so much. I tried comforting him, alleviating his fears, but he remains anxious all the time, always in an anticipatory unease, as if waiting for disaster to unravel.
“You could do nothing much, unless if we swap places.” He would tell me in a childish jester.
“It’s unfair; don’t leave me. We’ve still got things to do – together.” I would beg, and he would shake his head slowly in disapproval.
If he was really telling me the truth about my numbers, then why won't he listen to my pleas? Why won't my voice change his heart? Perhaps, it's the latter. I might be a fast language learner, but I don't have the quality of a good voice.
As much as I want it, I don’t understand him. I don’t understand his situation, his thoughts processes and his actions. I don’t get him, as much as I don’t get his Egyptian fortune telling skills.
The doctor who quits medic school and becomes an engineer – he is as unfathomable as his title. And now, another goodbye to bid.
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